When We Were Gangsters (2/?)

“P-p-pardon?” Patrick had a tendency to stutter over syllables when he was nervous.

“I mean. I mean like...” Pete was flustered, a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. “Do you want to come over and...er... talk?” Patrick laughed lightly under his breath and Pete felt his knees shake a little.

“I don't even know you.” Patrick was glancing up at him from under heavy eyelids.

“But don't you want to get to know me?”

“In the daytime.” Patrick smiled sweetly, and Pete couldn't particularly blame him for being so leery.

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Patrick blinked slowly and Pete found it somehow seductive. Evie bounded over to the bar and Pete watched her lean far over to whisper in Jimmy's ear. Jimmy laughed and handed her a glass of water.

“Hey Patrick. Oh, hey Pete.” Pete looked over at William Beckett, a tall boy with rich, long locks of mahogany hair cascading down to his shoulders. His eyes looked sleepy. “You were great tonight, Patrick.”

“Thanks Bill.” William nodded.

“Is.. uh.. is Evie still hangin' around?” Patrick pointed over to the stage where Evie was gathering her things. “Thanks.” William started stepping slowly, deliberately toward the stage.

“Is he drunk?” Pete whispered.

“No, he's just... strange.” Pete watched William climb on to the stage and stand very close to Evie. Her pale cheeks flushed a beautiful red and she pushed her curls behind her ears. Pete thought that Patrick must be blind. Beckett wasn't weird or strange, he just liked the girl. Evie leaned against the wall and William leaned in towards her. She blew a round, pink bubble with her gum and William smiled wider. Pete felt his heart soften a little toward Evie. He knew Billy Becks from back in their school days and knew that even though he seemed suave, cool, and collected he was really just looking for someone to love and dote on. Evie, Pete decided, probably needed a boy like that.

“I see,” Pete smiled. “So, tomorrow, do we have a date?” Patrick averted his eyes and looked thoughtfully at the floor. Pete eyed the boy's pale complexion and the contrast between that and his spring green shirt.

“Yeah,” Patrick smiled back. “Let's meet in front of Our Lady of Sorrows Basilica and go from there, OK?”

“3 o'clock?” He nodded again. Pete was anxious all night. He didn't sleep. Rather he paced the hallway of his apartment musing about Patrick's hair and Beckett's pale lilac shirt and Evie's reputation. He rummaged through his closet and wrote long letters to himself on his typewriter. He imagined Evie as a secretary. He imagined Patrick as his secretary and spending “lunch” breaks together in his office. Pete snapped back to reality as the sunrise snuck through his curtains and he was concerned with how bright it was. Somehow, between the hours and the minutes and the seconds, the time had passed enough so that Pete felt justified in starting his walk over to the basilica.

Outside the day seemed to be pristine and perfect. Pete closed his eyes against the warm breeze and the smell of springtime as he walked further, unchecked, down the street. Patrick was already outside the basilica, sitting calmly on a park bench and staring off at the trees just starting to bloom in the park across the street. Pete decided that it was perfect, the tilt of Patrick's jaw and the way the wind blew the petals from the trees across the street to tangle into Patrick's hair under his newsboy cap. Pete's breath hitched and he crossed the street.

“Hey,” Pete whispered softly as he sat down next to Patrick. He knew that Patrick hadn't seen him coming and let out a slight brush of laughter when the younger boy jumped.

“Hi,” Patrick's face flushed and Pete thought that he could get used to that reddening hue and the unnervingly charming way Patrick bit his lip when he was feeling shy.

“Did you sleep well?” Pete asked and Patrick's face faltered. Pete knew he was contemplating the question Pete hadn't meant to ask.

“Yes, I did sleep well,” Patrick smiled slowly. “Did you?”

“Not at all. Then again, I almost never sleep well.”

“Really?” Patrick turned to face him. “Are you tired all the time then?”

“Not really,” Pete stretched his legs out in front of him and sighed. “If I can get an hour, maybe two, of sleep a night I should be fine for the next day.” Pete grinned at the sight of Patrick's eyes wide with wonderment.

“That's like the craziest thing ever,” Patrick pushed his hair out of his eyes again. “I can't imagine living like that.”

“Well, I used to have really awful nightmares as a kid, I still do- when I sleep, that is. But I guess I kind of taught myself not to sleep so much; that way the nightmares wouldn't get me anymore.” Patrick nodded emphatically, eyes still round and beautifully blue. “Let's not talk about that though,” Pete shook his head like a dog, hair flying into his face and Patrick laughed. It was more like a joyous chortle, but somehow being this close to such a beautiful boy robbed Pete of the vast expanse of his vocabulary.

They soon escaped from the bench into the entrancement of the part across the street where Pete leaned in to kiss Patrick under a dogwood thick with blooms. But Patrick just turned his head so that Pete caught his cheek and Pete let out a frustrated groan.

“No kissing on the first date,” Patrick teased.

“I'll bet I can change that.” He whispered in close to Patrick's year, smiling in delight as the boy's shiver.

“Maybe...” Patrick stumbled on his words. “Maybe you could.”

“Let's go to dinner.” Pete took Patrick's hand in his own and began running toward the exit of the park.

“Wait... Wait...” Patrick panted, half from exertion, half from the peals of laughter escaping his lips. “I have to go make sure Evie got home.”

“She's a big girl,” Pete murmured against Patrick's jaw. “C'mon.”

“No,” Patrick's grin faded. “I need to make sure she got home OK.” Pete nodded solemnly and let Patrick lead the way to Evie's dingy brownstone. Patrick rang the doorbell while Pete stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands shoved deep into his pockets. The moments felt like forever when all Pete could imagine is the highlights of shadows on Patrick's face in the club the night before. The door creaked open and there stood Evie, wearing an over-sized men's dress shirt in a shade of lilac that looked particularly akin to the one Pete remembered on Beckett the night before.

“Hey.” Evie's voice was thick, and she leaned against the door jamb. “How are you?” She didn't see Pete.

“You OK? You look a little flushed.” Patrick leaned forward and pressed the back of his hand against one of Evie's cheeks.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Evie smiled lazily. “I'm gonna take a shower and then maybe catch a film over at the theater, OK?” Patrick smiled.

“OK, kid. Be good,” He paused and looked her over again. “You sure you're OK?” Evie nodded and Pete tried to decide if Patrick really was that naive.

“Yeah, I'm good,” Evie laughed. “I'll see you tomorrow.” Patrick turned to Pete as Evie shut the door.

“I think she's got a fever,” Patrick bit his lip.

“I think she's fucking Beckett.”